"Pains come and go. I am riding on waves of them. They are nothing like the orgasmic surges described by my New Age birthing teacher, but not nearly as bad as as my mother's tales of pelvises split in two and of women losing their minds from the agony.

I suck on gas and air and long for the sight of Tobia's face, full of roguish charm, as if he's inviting the world to share a secret joke with him. When my mother first met him, she told him he looked like a friendly horse. It's a comparison he loathes, but I cherish it.

And, finally here he is, his dark curls even more rumpled than usual, typically late for the birth of his first child. His haggard look is, I'm sure, simply due to an ill-timed night out on the town. Tobias is not one of nature's worriers."

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